


Born Twice, His Life Echoes

by letitrainathousandflames



Series: Clone Trooper Files [6]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Clone Angst, Echo is a good trooper and deserved better, Echo's life, Fives and Echo are the best brotp that's it thanks for coming to my ted talk, Medical Torture, Mutilation, Other, but if u wanna be in pain it also fits canon, no clonecest, this fits into my au in which Echo Fives and Dogma survived and escaped order 66
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:24:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitrainathousandflames/pseuds/letitrainathousandflames
Summary: Snippets of Echo's life as a trooper, from his birth to his rebirth in the bad batch arc. Made for my dear friend DeepseaCritter.





	Born Twice, His Life Echoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deepseaCritter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepseaCritter/gifts).



> This fic contains blood, gore, medical torture (limbs being surgically removed) and such. Read at your own discretion.

Clones developed surprisingly fast. The development of their brain and sense of consciousness was accelerated as well, which could lead to experiences unique to these human forms. One of them was the ability to perceive the world around from a very early stage.

Once, a clone baby distinctly perceived the world around him as he was placed in a crib, his small hands reaching up to the man in front of him, and the man chuckled.

“There, there, fourteen-oh-nine.” he had said to him, and although the baby of course couldn’t understand the actual meaning of words, he smiled at the soothing tone of the man’s voice “Oh, they said your batch is a fine one. I know we’ll see great things from you and your brothers.” The man placed his finger over the baby’s nose with a feather-light touch “You were the first one to push out of the tube.” He chuckled again “An eager little one, aren’t you?”

Another voice spoke echoing like waves, far from the crib, sounding rather dry:

“Stop talking to the clone and take the other one.” The man walked away from the crib and the baby reached for him anxiously as if he wished to keep him by his side with the strength of his small, chubby arms “Place them together and don’t forget to label all the products with the bracelets and tag them with their batch numbers.”

“Yes, Madam.” the man’s voice said from afar in a revering tone “Will do. Leave it to Ninety-Nine here.” a door swung closed and the baby could hear the man’s voice approaching again as he grumbled “Don’t listen to her. You’re not a product. You’re not a number. None of you are.”

Funny how clones would remember some words they heard – before they could even understand words properly - until the day they died. The man was close to Fourteen-Oh-Nine again, but this time he had a small bundle on his hands; a baby just like little Fourteen-Oh-Nine. Ninety-Nine held him up closer to the other, and the baby in his arms, with outstretched arms and wide eyes looking everywhere in attention reached for Fourteen-Oh-Nine, brushing his small hand over his arm.

“Oh, look at that, Fourteen-Oh-Nine, I think he likes you. This is your batch brother Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five. I’m sure you’ll get along fine.” Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five then slapped a hand to Fourteen-Oh-Nine’s face and the other squirmed, trying to push him away; Ninety-Nine pulled him back a little “Well, you might quarrel every now and then, sure. But you’re brothers, and this is not a bond easily broken. We are one and the same, little ones. Vode an.”

* * *

_In the dream – not a dream, really, but a memory – he saw then Twenty-Ten and Forty-Forty, small and all cuddled up in Ninety-Nine’s arms, the opposite of the eager, flapping-his-arms Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five. The last one to be shown before Fourteen-Oh-Nine and his brother’s eyes was Seven-Eight-Two. Even being just a  newborn, he was taking an attempt at babbling. Still, all he could manage was a weird sound, trying to imitate Ninety-Nine but not having the coordination to do so yet._

_“Wa-a…” he says “Wa-a…”_

_Vod. Even being a newborn too, Fourteen-Oh-Nine somehow knew that was what he meant to say. He tried to say it too but then a voice interrupted him—_

“Fourteen-Oh-Nine, get up!”

Then the same voice, coming from someone else.

“Let me just pinch his nose, that oughtta wake him up.”

“Shh, you guys!” then someone poked Fourteen-Oh-Nine and his eyes snapped open; there was a boy with the same face as his own, the same brown eyes and the black hair, like a mirror image that could talk to him “Hey, Fourteen, sorry to wake you up this early but there’s gonna be an early meeting with one of the supervisors and we need to be up and ready.”

Fourteen-Oh-Nine bolted up to his feet, getting to tidy his bed up like nobody had never slept there, changing to his day clothes like his brothers had already done.

“Meeting?” he asked, checking the time on the projector watch on the wall; Fourteen-Oh-Nine had developed this habit of repeating everything that he was told since he remembered having learned to talk “This early? How do you know?”

“Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five was out of bed when he shouldn’t.” Twenty-Ten glared at Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five “‘Exploring the base’ or whatever, with Forty-Forty, and they heard O’Niner and the other older cadets talking about some emergency meetings.”

Forty-Forty shrugged.

“What could they possibly want to talk to us? All we do is tend to the babies’ tubes, do cleaning jobs and such. The closest we ever get to training is the racing track. They don’t even let us lift weights.”

Seven-Eight-Two rolled his eyes.

“That’s because we’re three, silly. If we start the heavy training now, they fear we might not grow very tall. Wait for next year.”

Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five gave them a smug smile.

“Speak for yourself. I think I grew about a whole centimeter last month.”

Forty-Forty and Twenty-Ten were having none of it.

“Shut up, Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five, you’re making this up.”

“Yeah, Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five, nobody asked you nothing.”

Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five pouted, grumbling:

“Stop calling me that! I’m Fives! My name is Fives!”

At that, Fourteen-Oh-Nine glanced over to him.

“You can’t just pick a name. An older cadet has to give it to you on the same day they give you your trooper armor and ship you out.”

Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five glared at him.

“That’s not a _rule!_ ” he scrunched his nose “It’s just a stupid tradition for people who can’t come up with cool names for themselves, and I am not a number, I’m Fives! Now stop repeating everything the older cadets say to you.”

Fourteen-Oh-Nine had a hard time trying to get along with Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five. The kid was just too stubborn and full of himself.

“Listen, just because I care about following our brothers’ code, you don’t have to be all offended.”

“Ohhh!” Twenty-Ten howled, smiling at Forty-Forty “Here they go again.”

“You listen here, di’kut…!”

“Oi!” Seven-Eight-Two cut him off “Language!”

“Ah, don’t be a pain in the…”

But Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five couldn’t finish his sentence because the door slid open and a tall cadet on his sevens – two years from being able to take his final tests and being shipped off – walked in the room, his red set of clothes impeccable as his combed-back hair. Fourteen-Oh-Nine did his best to comb his own hair back with his hand as the boys scrambled to stand in attention, lined up in front of their beds.

“Good morning, cadets.” He said, carrying a datapad on him; they knew him for his distinctive whitening sideburns and eyebrows despite his young age, a genetic mutation of his particular strain “I see you’re already up. Very good.”

“Good morning, supervisor O’Niner.” They answered him in unison

O’Niner was one of the older cadets placed on training duty – he was the one to assign the smaller tasks to the boys too young to start their actual training. He was particularly fond of Fourteen-Oh-Nine because he would always try and follow the rules as best as he could. Usually he’d flash a small smile towards him, but today he seemed more serious than usual.

“The kaminoans have made a decision to lower the age for training.”

“Cool!” Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five blurted out before he could contain himself “Are we finally gonna hold a blaster?”

O’Niner might’ve almost flashed a smile, but he contained himself.

“No, cadet, not yet. But they’ve decided your age group are now old enough to start watching the older cadets’ simulations, and you’ll have to write detailed reports on those, you hear me? You’ll have to provide consistent comments on their strategy, their strengths and their weakness, alternate solutions to the situations they’ll face, everything. The details on these assignments are here.” He gave the datapad to Seven-Eight-Two and looked straight at Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five “There are deadlines to turn those in, so get on schedule, you hear me, Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five?”

Fifty-Five-Fify-Five swallowed and Fourteen-Oh-Nine fought to keep a straight face because his lips kept trying to curl into a smile. Everyone knew that Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five wasn’t very prone to respecting deadlines. Then Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five turned his head to look at O’Niner – disregarding protocol, but who would be surprised at that? – and stuttered out:

“M-My name is Fives, sir.”

O’Niner looked at him, and Fives squared his shoulders, standing in attention again, his eyes wide. O’Niner walked to him and folded his arms, looking at the younger cadet.

“So your brothers gave you a name even before you could pick your armor?” he paused, and the cadet didn’t answer “I asked you a question, cadet.”

Fives swallowed hard, blinking fast in his nervousness.

“I, uh. I picked it myself, sir.”

O’Niner stared at him for a few moments to then crack a smile at the corner of his lips.

“Well, it seems like you and I are stuck to our numbers, eh?” he lowered his voice “Better then end up like Zap because of that one time he stunned himself with his blaster.”

He smiled encouragingly, and the cadets laughed, even Fourteen-Oh-Nine. But as O’Niner saluted them and left, all his brothers gathered around Seven-Eight-Two, and as curious as Fourteen-Oh-Nine was to see the datapad instructions, he bolted after the supervisor.

“Sir!” he called out in the hallway, and O’Niner turned to him “I… I thought we had to be named on our name day, the day we receive our armor.”

O’Niner waved his head, without a hint of his official posture, looking down to Fourteen-Oh-Nine as he stood in attention in the hallway.

“Sometimes we find our names before that.” he scratched his head “It’s fine that we call each other by names, Fourteen-Oh-Nine, long as you don’t forget that for official matters and for addressing the Kaminoans, you have to introduce yourself by your number, do you understand?”

Fourteen-Oh-Nine licked his lips hesitating before he spoke:

“Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five says…” he refused to use that non-official name his brother had given himself “he says he is not a number, but it’s what we are, right, sir? It’s what we all are.”

O’Niner grimaced at that, walking closer to Fourteen-Oh-Nine and his voice was kind.

“We are more than numbers, cadet. We are the greatest strength of the republic.” He raised his hand and ruffled cadet’s hair in what was a small protocol breach but no one could blame O’Niner for being affectionate of the younger cadets; most clones placed on supervising duty were anyway “All you have to do is follow your orders and do your best. Now go back to your brothers.”

Fourteen-Oh-Nine was glowing with happiness as he got back to their room. Seven-Eight-Two gave him the datapad with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, vod, here are the instructions for the report we have to write later. I was surprised you didn’t ripped it off my fingers to be the first to read it.”

Fourteen-Oh-Nine got the datapad, looking at the projection of watch on the wall.

“First we need to have breakfast, then we tend to the babie’s tanks, and then we have the…”

Fives rolled his eyes.

“We know our schedule, Echo.”

At that, Fourteen-Oh-Nine frowned.

“What did you call me?”

Twenty-Ten giggled.

“Ah, right, because he keeps _repeating_ stuff.”

Fourteen-Oh-Nine felt his face warm with embarrassment as they left their room and Seven-Eight-Two and the others laughed.

“This is not funny.” Fourteen-Oh-Nine grumbled “Stop calling me that.”

It was Forty-Forty’s turn to giggle.

“Stop repeating orders, then.”

* * *

“We need to analyze how coordinated they are.” Echo mumbled to himself; each of them had been provided with a datapad to take notes, but only Echo was doing so, as his brothers only watched in gleeful awe the older cadets running for cover from enemy fire down in the training facility.

“Shut up, Echo.” Fives said as he smiled at the young men training down there “Look how fast they are! This is so cool!”

Seven-Eight-Two clamped a hand over his own mouth to muffle his scream of excitement as he saw one of the men running to a metal crate and picking a Z-6 cannon from the weapons available there.

“That guy knows how to do it!” he laughed, as he balled his hands into fists, shaking them in excitement “Yes!”

“He’s not gonna be able to run very far with that massive gun, vod.” Twenty-Ten said, twisting his lips “It’s too heavy.”

“Seven-Eight-Two here loves the damn heavy cannons.” Fives piped cheerfuly “He says that ‘if there ain’t a heavy cannon…’”

“‘…There ain’t no fun!’” Seven-Eight-Two completed as the clone he cheered for cleared the path ahead with his successive shots “Just look at that beauty!”

“Yeah, I see it, Heavy-guy. Wait. Heav—Hevy. Hey, Hevy!” he poked Seven-Eight-Two on his ribs “That’s your name now.” He spoke louder so the other brothers could hear him “Seven-Eight-Two’s name is ‘Hevy’ now, everyone cool with that?”

Twenty-Ten giggled wholeheartedly and Seven-Eight-Two – Hevy – threw his head back and joined the laughter that erupted between the brothers. Echo lowered his head, hoping the group’s lack of professionalism wouldn’t be noticed by Bric and El-Es, the bounty hunters in charge of evaluating the training sessions.

“It’s perfect!” Hevy said breathless with laughter “Thank you, vod.”

“We’re not supposed to be picking names now guys,” Echo said, as he still typed on his datapad “We’re supposed to write down how he’s going against their instructions, marching ahead with nobody there to cover for him.”

The perfectly timed ‘shut up, Echo’ from his brothers was no surprise to the exasperated cadet.

-

Fives didn’t seem so pleased to see that Echo had had the best score on target practice, better then himself for a short few points.

“It’s because you never even read the reg manual.” Echo shugged at him while Twenty-Ten, Forty-Forty and Hevy finished their final laps on the race track

Fives drank water from a canteen and scoffed.

“I read it, I just don’t… don’t stroke the cover and kiss it goodnight like you do!”

Echo rolled his eyes. Just because he had started to get used to Fives’ behavior it didn’t mean it was getting any easier throughout the years.

“You’re too eager to keep firing, so you don’t pull the trigger all the way down.”

“Yeah, that’s why I shoot faster than you!”

Echo pinched the bridge of his nose. They were six now, but sometimes Fives would make him think he was four.

“You’re also missing the center of the target. Since the blast doesn’t come out full-force, it goes lower than what you expect it to go.”

Fives seemed to be even more annoyed at the explanation.

“Okay, fine, I’m sure the reg manual will be the first thing to cross my mind when I’m surrounded by clankers.”

“Nobody calls them that.”

“The older cadets do!”

“Stop trying to be cool.”

Hevy finished his track, slowing down and walking towards his brothers.

 “Are you two arguing again? Fives, give Echo a break.”

“Stop calling me that.” Echo mumbled for what seemed to be the hundredth time

* * *

On the day they’d receive their armor, Echo was nervous. The Cadet to hand it to him was about eight, one year shy of his final test to be a trooper and he introduced himself with an easy smile Echo did not expected.

“Hey there, Fourteen-Oh-Nine. At ease.” The older cadet said; Echo relaxed his shoulders despite him being absolutely tense everywhere else “I’m Bly. Are you ready to pick up your armor?”

He’d always heard that aside from O’Niner most of the oder cadets were a very serious bunch. Maybe this was a test, he thought nervously, deciding not to smile back.

“Yes, sir.”

On the table in front of Bly there was a white and green plastoid armor. Echo had been dreaming of wearing on of those ever since he could remember. Bly nodded at him grabbing the chest and back plate that, placed over each other, carried the remaining parts and the helmet perfectly balanced over it.

“Do you have a name of your choosing, future trooper?”

Future trooper. That made Echo’s heart skip a beat. But the truth was that no, he didn’t. He’d been so busy trying to study and learn the most he could while he was there that he’d never stopped to think of a name.

_Well, any name other than the stupid nickname Fives had given him._

“M-My…” he cleared his throat, hesitating “My batch mates call me Echo.”

“‘Echo’?” Bly raised an eyebrow “Is there a reason for that?”

Echo lowered his eyes.

“They say I repeat everything I hear or read. Lines from the regulations manual, instructions, superior orders…”

Bly knitted his brows.

“Really? Are you saying you can quote the reg manual from heart?”

The wonder in his voice made Echo frown as he nodded. Of course he could. It had been very easy to memorize it. “This is good, cadet, a good memory is a quality much desired for ARC troopers and commanding officers.”

ARC Trooper. Echo’s breath hitched in his lungs and he swallowed hard.

“Really, sir?”

Bly nodded with a kind smile, handing Echo his armor. Echo’s hands sunk down a little under the weight of it – it was way heavier than he expected it to be.

“I look forward to seeing your progress, Echo. The commanding officer of whatever squad you’ll be placed in the future would be lucky to have someone like you.” He saluted Echo “Now focus on your training for the next few years and become the very best trooper you can.”

Echo walked in his bedroom at night still repeating Bly’s words to himself for the tenth time, and Fives said  he was gonna punch him in the face if he repeated it once more. In the end, Hevy had to split the two of them up when Fives did and the two of them began to fight as usual.

And as their training started, things went just the way Echo had expected them to be. Hevy would always pick the heavy cannons, Forty-Forty would get too worried about the others to pay attention at his own progress, Echo would stick to the original orders and Fives would come up with some crazy idea that only would only work halfway through before blowing on their faces.

Fives had been so excited about finally being able to do simulations he’d want to sleep in his armor but he stopped trying to when he spent an entire day feeling pain on his lower back. Echo sighed; if only the fellow cadets used all that energy to follow the kriffing orders, maybe they’d have a chance.

* * *

“Y’know, things would’ve been better if Twenty-Ten here hadn’t played the droid bait last time. Stay out of my way this time maybe, eh vod?”

Of course Fives wouldn’t shut up about the simulations every waking moment of his. They were seven now, and things were getting tougher and tougher in their training. Echo needed to be the best, so that he could be placed in a platoon and shipped out of Kamino; the idea of being on cleaning duty forever with Ninety-Nine and the other rejects was just absolutely terrifying. He was ARC trooper material, he knew it. But as long as he was attached to those fools… Sometimes Echo had a hard time believing they were from the same batch, especially Fives.

Forty-Forty elbowed Fives on his ribs as they boarded the elevator for their new practice training.

“C’mon, leave Droidbait alone.”

“Don’t start this kark.” Twenty-Ten snarled in a warning “Don’t call me that.”

As they reached the top floor, Echo looked around the room. This time, they had a number of large, heavy crates scattered all over the place, even blocking their view like a labyrinth with many different paths, narrow and wide. As Echo squinted around, trying to see ahead between the crates, a voice came in the speaker:

“Attention cadets. Today’s assignment will be divided in two objectives: defend your position on the red corner, collect the intel and relay it to the communications line at the rendezvous point. Remember, cadets, the correct information must be handed to the higher command, or you’ll be dooming your brothers on the other side."

Fives’ eyes scanned the room up instead of down and between the crates like his brothers’ and he saw the red lamp dangling over an area ahead that was surrounded by three piles of crates that acted more or less like walls, making it a small square room.

“Okay, found the red corner.”, Fives said tensely, nodding ahead

“It’s where we need to defend our position.” Echo answered him

“They literally just said that, Echo, stop repeating stuff!”

“Easy, boys.” Hevy said, taking a step ahead slowly because of the heavy gun “Don’t we usually just walk out of the elevator and there’s clankers shooting us everywhere?”

“Ah, yeah.” Droidbait agreed “It’s too kriffing quiet.”

“Let’s advance slowly then?” Forty-Forty suggested

So they started walking on duos, Fives and Hevy scouting ahead, Droidbait and Forty-Forty behind them and Echo farther back, studying their situation. This was strange. No enemies? They’d just easily complete the first step of the test just like that? They walked into a larger hall between the crates, and it was funny how oppressive the wide training room felt now. Echo kept his hand steady on the grip of his blaster. They kept walking, until someone caught the corner of his eye. Echo turned his head to look and nearly choked.

Between each and every lined up crates along their path were droids, unmoving and with their menacing eyes unlit. Echo gave a sharp poke to Droidbait’s back between his back plate and his codpiece.

“Ow! What the hell, Echo?” he turned to his brother and his eyes went wide as Echo silently pointed out the hidden enemies “Oh. Oh no.”

Droidbait grabbed Forty-Forty by his back piece, and the clone seemed confused until his brother pointed at the droids. Forty-forty whispered a long string of swear words. Fives and Hevy kept moving forward without noticing anything just yet. Then…

“Attack!” one of the droids piped out in its metallic voice, and all the other ones seemed to activate, their backlit eyes coming to life as they walked out of their hiding, surrounding the clones. Hevy pulled the trigger and his cannon began to spin, spitting out blast charges.

“Fives, Echo, the flanks!” he screamed, and Echo turned to the left side of them as Fives did the same to the left, and they both started shooting “Forty-Forty, Cutup, our rear! Let’s cover each other and advance!”

“On you, vod!” Fives screamed back as he fired on the clankers as they tried to reach them, making the deactivated ones block the path of the ones farther in the back

“No, no, no, this is a bad idea” Echo screamed back under the heavy fire, “we don’t know how to get to the red area, we need to scout first or we’ll walk into a trap!”

“Do you see a way for us to scout in this mess, di’kut?!” Fives snarled as Hevy advanced, cleaning the path ahead and the group followed behind “We go and plan along the way!”

“That’s not a strategy, that’s suicide!”

Echo looked at the remaining droids on his side – ten of them! Ten! These simulations were exaggerated, no trooper would ever face ten droids alone, right? He probably would have his platoon’s support in such a situation. He tried to even his breathing, remember that this was just a simulation and his life wasn’t at stake, but the constant yells of ‘blast them!’ and ‘roger roger’ from the enemy droids were really scary. That was when Droidbait left position and began to try and scale one of the crates.

“What in the stars are you doing?!” Forty-Forty yelled, still firing on the clankers at their backs

“Cover for me, vod!” he screamed back “I just had an idea!”

And he scaled the pile of crates now able to see through the labyrinth’s path from above, and he started to run on top of the crates, moving ahead faster than his brothers could for being busy returning enemy fire.

“Okay, I see it! I see it!” he yelled farther ahead “move straight ahead, then left, straight, left again on the narrower path and you’re there!”

Droidbait then settled for firing on the enemy droids from above, providing them a vital cover that helped them advance much farther. The group was almost reaching him when there was a shift of attention on the droids and they turned to fire at Droidbait instead. Dridbait knelt down to make a smaller target out of himself, but the enemy fire was just overwhelming. Hevy fired on the clankers ahead, Fives and Echo kept covering the flanks and Forty-Forty kept firing on the ones at their tails. Then…

One of the the enemies’ blast charges hit Droidbait right on his armored shoulder and he screamed, tumbling to the edge of the crates and falling into what was most likely the red area with a loud, pained scream.

“No!” Hevy screamed “Droidbait.”

They rushed forward, covering for each other until they reached the red area and were met with the fallen form of Droidbait under the red light closer to the crates and a datapad placed right in the middle of the space. Echo reached for it but Fives rushed past him and got it first.

“This must be the intel.” Fives said with a victorious laugh that was interrupted by a groan

Hevy covered the area entrance with his canon while Forty-Forty reached for Droidbait. The clone seemed to be unable to get back to his feet.

“Hey, don’t worry.” He grunted out “I did my job, didn’t I? I was up there, being droid bait.”

His head dropped back and Forty-Forty waved his head.

“He’s unconscious. They zapped him good.”

Echo swallowed down, letting his imagination go wild. If this was the real world outside, and not just a silly simulation… Droidbait would be dead. Killed by some kriffing separatist clanker. That made Echo look at this brother under a sudden rush of affection. As much as they were a bunch of di’kuts, those boys - men? when did they really cross that line? - were his squad. He had to do his best for them.

Fives pressed the button and a soft voice spoke, as the face of a Jedi – General Shaak Ti – was floating up in projection out of it.

“Attention, cadets” she said “We have word of an approaching enemy fleet consisting of two separatist supply ships, a large carrier vessel, eighty-five gunships and one hundred and thirty-two small Starfighters. You need to deliver these numbers correctly to General Kenobi, but the only place with enough signal is in the blue area. Remember, troopers, our forces are spread thin. Any miscount might lead to troops being pulled unnecessarily from other battles, leading to defeat on those, or to a shortage of troops and the failure of this very mission.”

There was silence and then Fives let out a whistle.

“I… did not get all that. Lemme try it again.” He pressed the replay button but the recording was jammed now “Oh. Oh no. It was… It was Two seppie ships and a hundred… no, two hundred… Forty-Forty, did you get that?”

Forty-Forty grimaced at Fives, leaving the unconscious Droidbait on the ground to then mind the only other way in – a small space between the crates, very narrow but wide enough for a clanker to pass through.

“No, vod. Sorry. She talked too much, I got lost.”

Fives snarled, despair staining his voice.

“Kark, we’re fucked. How would we possibly relay the intel…”

Then Echo spoke over him:

“two separatist supply ships, a large carrier vessel, eighty-five gunships and one hundred and thirty-two small Starfighters.” He gave Fives and Forty-Forty a small smile as they gaped at him in utter shock “It… It was easy.”

Fives grabbed Echo’s arm and dragged him closer to a crate.

“Hevy, Forty-Forty, defend position while Echo and I run to the relay station! We finally got use for Echo!”

Echo snarled as the other cadet pulled him down the narrow labyrinth between the crates.

“Stop calling me that!”

Along the way they met quite a few droids, but managed to reach what would be their communications room for that mission, and while Echo was sending the message, Fives defended him bravely until a blast hit him in the chest and he dropped unconscious. Echo kept typing through his fear and, as his entire body spasmed under the shock of the stun blast that hit him on his back, he still pressed the “send” button on the holographic keyboard, sending the message.

 

 

“But we sent the message!” Forty-Forty argued later to Bric and El-Es.

The bounty hunters were not amused, Bric especially.

“But your entire squad died, meaning the position you were meant to defend had fallen.” He explained dryly “Your fellow soldiers would arrive with reinforcements expecting to be met with at least one base defended by clones only to be met with bloodthirsty droids. You were not supposed to die, but to stand your ground.”

Echo lowered his head, nodding. These were their orders and they failed to abide to them. Fives, however, was on edge as usual.

“It doesn’t matter if we live or die! We finished the mission!”

Bric snarled, poking a finger to Fives’ chest.

“Stars know that it really doesn’t matter if you clones live or die, but when you are given a task, it’s expected of you to follow it through!”

Fives chlenched his fist and drew in a breath when Hevy bumped on his shoulder, whispering.

“No, vod! Shh!”

El-Es wasn’t as short-tempered as his colleague, and he looked over to the cadets.

“Don’t worry, cadets. These are only trials. When the true test comes, I believe you will have no problems.”

Bric gave a spiteful laugh.

“Yeah, or you can get used to the idea of joining Ninety-Nine and the other rejects.”

 

 

After that day, Echo and Fives began to work amazingly well together during simulations, although they remained as different from each other as it was possible on their free time.

The nights were rough on Echo and his brothers. Their bodies would hurt terribly because of the brutal trainings and the aching bones that grew twice as fast as a normal human’s, and Echo would find himself constantly stretching his legs under his blankets, trying to ease the pain even as he’d grow over three centimeters in a month – if he wasn’t a clone, he would’ve grown but only a single centimeter. He and his brothers would be constantly being measured for new fittings on their clothes and armor, and their faces turned from young boys’ to men’s far too quick.

The day of their final test came far too quick too. Fives had only recently tattooed his right temple with a number five – really creative, Echo had said with an eyeroll while Droidbait laughed, but the vod couldn’t give less of a damn. He was all obsessed over  being unique, apart from the other clones. Echo just wanted to be the best soldier he could be, like Bly had told him. Echo had heard that Bly had made it to commander of Jedi master Secura’s battalion. To know that such an excellent soldier believed in him… Echo knew he would be a superb soldier at some point. He looked at Hevy as he laughed his ass off, teasing Fives over the ridiculous goatee he’d been trying to pull ever since the smallest hint of facial hair had begun to show and sighed when this caused a whole speech from Fives’ over how much more handsome than the others he was, despite the fact that they literally had the same face.

Well, Echo thought as he reopened his reg manual, not everyone here is ARC trooper material, right?

* * *

When Echo saw Droidbait’s body down the stairs of the Rishi Moon outpost, shot by clankers, he could only think of the way he’d be always cursing too much and would get reprimanded by O’Niner – only to then curse on a lower tone, much to Fives’ and Hevy’s amusement. When he saw the clankers shoot O’Niner dead in front of him, Echo felt a cold dread setting in his guts. It was the first time he had seen death in the face. It was the first time he had actually been scared for his own life and his brothers’.

When the giant eel ate Cutup in front of him and the others, he thought of his smile when he said that Bric had given him a name, making him the last brother of the batch to get one before leaving Kamino. And when he heard Hevy telling them to go, and exploding the Rishi outpost and himself with it.

“Hevy always did hate that place.” The sardonic comment left his lips before Echo could stop himself. There was a need to make a joke out of it – like he knew hevy would – just to pretend that maybe he wasn’t a nine-year old man-boy, but a tough soldier ready to face his losses and move on.

* * *

Captain Rex had admitted them to the 501st – General Skywalker’s battalion, and never had Echo felt so proud of himself, and of Fives for that matter. When the two of them sat down to paint the blue lines on their armors, Fives didn’t stop smiling for a single minute. _Next stop, ARC trooper_ , he kept saying it since Kamino.

“Why two lines, vod?” Fives had asked as he saw Echo’s design for his helmet

“They’re echoing each other.” Echo answered looking deadpan at Fives “For a man who thinks to be so funny, I thought you’d get the pun.” And as Fives snorted, Echo smiled, still painting over the white plastoid “What’s more, you gave me this stupid name. You should be proud.”

Fives placed perfectly symmetric red dots on his own helmet, and Echo wasn’t still sure of what in the moons he was trying to draw.

“I’m always proud of you, di’kut.”

Echo hummed. Fives’ name-calling was his most unbashed display of affection. It had taken Rex a long while to understand that ‘you are one kriffing Captain, sir!’ had actually been a compliment. That was good ol’ Fives.

-

When Ninety-Nine died in front of him and Fives, fighting like a clone trooper, brave to the very end, none of his brothers saw Echo’s tears under his helmet. He still remembered his words from the day he was born. He still remembered the feather-light touch to his nose and the warm feeling of being in someone’s arms. Every time a vode died it would feel like part of Echo had died too, but this time… This time it felt like those clankers had reached into his chest and ripped a piece of his heart.

And as months passed after their promotion to ARC troopers, Echo’s tough act fooled everyone but Fives. His last batch brother would always know when he was hurting, and he would pat him on his back, place a head on his shoulder, tell some dumb story about Rex being tossed off a wall by Skywalker or Commander Tano joining the General to tease Kenobi and Cody. And Echo would laugh with Fives, and the line between man and boy would blur; they would be kids for a few moments, laughing and teasing one another and joking like their life meant something and they hadn’t been made with the sole purpose of fighting and dying.

* * *

Lola Sayu. The Citadel. Something about that mission made Echo’s stomach churn, and for some reason it reminded him of finding Droidbait’s body down the stairs of the Rishi Moon outpost, shot by clankers. O’Niner had died there too, and Hevy, and Cutup. Being an ARC trooper, Echo had a lot of men under his command, and he had lost quite a few of them too. It would always hurt. It would always leave a scar in his heart.

Echo stared at the twin blue lines on the helmet in his hands, dressed of his armor and pauldrons, seeing his reflection in the dark visor. Clones. They were all echoes of each other. Echo didn’t like mirrors. It would always seem like a dear brother would be right there on his reach, behind the glass and all he had to do was pull them back into the world.

Fives’ hand over his shoulder startled Echo out of his conjectures.

“Echo, we leave in fives. I mean, Five. Hehe. Five minutes. Get ready, I’ll even let you recite your regulations on the way there. Always helps me to shoot faster, how fed up you get me with that crap.”

Echo rolled his eyes at that. Sometimes it felt like Fives was the same cadet even after all those years. All those nine years and a half. They were so young and somehow felt so old. Sometimes Fives would ask Echo of his plans to the future and his only concrete plan was to not let anyone die under his charge again.

“You look spooked, vod.” Fives said in a quieter voice ‘You okay?”

Echo turned to Fives and swallowed.

“Fives, you know I give you a hard time with all the regulations and codes and ‘oh no, the general’s plan is gonna get us killed’” Fives chuckled at that, and so did Echo even if he didn’t mean to “But you know that I have the highest respect for you, right?”

Fives frowned at that, his hand still on his brother’s shoulder.

“I’ll ask again, Echo, are you okay?”

Echo nodded, looking down to the helmet under Fives’ other arm.

“Back then I didn’t understand why would you want to paint that kriffing thing on your helmet but I get it now.” Fives looked down to his helmet on instinct, letting go of Echo “Eight months. It feel like Rishi Moon was only yesterday.”

Fives was silent for a moment, then he scoffed.

“You sound like General Kenobi, talking like an old man.” He seemed concerned for a moment “Echo, are you… are you worried about the mission?”

“No.” Echo’s lie was quick and he brushed Fives’ off “No, I was just remembering things.”

Fives nodded at him and the two brothers looked at each other without uttering a word for a while. Echo wondered if in his mad need for individuality and personality Fives would be happy that Echo made a conscious effort to remember their batch brothers. He opened his mouth to speak, but Fives’ comlink rang.

“Fives, get Echo, gather the men and meet me and Snips… Uh, commander Tano by the shuttle.”

“Yessir, General.” Fives answered, looking at Echo to then wink “C’mon, vod, I can hold your hand throughout the whole flight if you’re scared.” he teased, almost singing the words, and Echo snorted

“Yeah, no need for that, di’kut.” Fives had started walking out when Echo called for him “Ner vod. Be careful out there. Don’t go and be stupid.”

Fives turned to him with that same dumb smile he’d always have since they were just kids.

They were still kids, in a sense.

“Vod’ika, ‘going and being stupid’ is part of my charm.”

“Fives.” Echo’s voice was tense now; almost afraid; he didn’t know what was causing this sense of dread in him, and he hated it “Listen…” Fives waited, his smile fading into the long silence, and Echo tried to push the mando’a words that meant his undying love for his dear brother, his last batch brother and his best friend, but he felt far too self-conscious to do it then and there; Echo shook his head “Nevermind. I’ll tell you later.”

There would be time later. The two brothers would always be together.

* * *

When he saw how each and every droid was aiming for the shuttle, their only way out of that nightmare, Echo knew that he needed to secure it before those clankers managed to blow it to scrap. So Echo ran ignoring Fives that for once was the one to scream for him not to go. For once, Fives obeyed protocol when Echo didn’t.

The gunfire was deafening. Echo kept shooting at each and every clanker on sight. He aimed at that metallic little bastard at the cannon. If he managed to kill it, everything would be fine. He  fired several times against the droid, but the thick plating of the tank held any damage he’d try to inflict. The canon turned its aim towards the shuttle, towards Echo. He drew in a deep breath as he looked into the dark barrel of the weapon as it got ready to spit fire and death at him.

_Fives… Brother…_

The impact of the blast knocked Echo back into the shuttle with such violence his helmet slipped out of his head; his body hit the back wall hard, so hard all the air left his lungs as the explosion rang in his ears loud enough for him to believe he’d never be able to hear anything again – not that it would be an issue, for Echo was pretty sure he would die then and there. There was pain, and then, suddenly there was darkness.

Echo woke up in so much pain he thought he was dead. Even if he wasn’t, he was sure he had to be dying. He heard the faint voice of a droid. Everything sounded distant, as if he was underwater. The blast had made his hearing like that, muffled and most likely permanently ruined.

“…won’t survive, boss.”

Then he heard an equally metallic-sounding voice but deeper; a voice that carried a certain darkness within itself as his eardrums grew slowly more sensible to the sounds around him, although they never stopped ringing. He had heard that voice in person only once, in a joined mission with Rex, Commander Cody and General Kenobi, but he’d heard it many times in transmissions and datapads. That was General Grievous.

“I survived on less. He will make it. Prep him for surgery and get rid of these meat stumps before they get infected. We need this clone alive.”

“Roger roger.”

Echo tried to talk, but it was like his tongue was made of lead. Everything hurt so much, every inch of his body burning and aching so much he’d only realize then that he was letting out small ragged grunts the whole time since he had woken up. He opened his eyes, flinching at the bright white light coming from the ceiling; he blinked a few times to adjust his sight and saw clankers all around him, plus two… No, three medical droids. What was going on? Had he been captured? But why would the enemy be concerned about a clone’s health? Why was he still alive?

He tried to piece everything together in his head. There had been the ambush, and the shuttle, and then an explosion, bright like a sun and almost as hot. There had been the taste of blood in his mouth, and the flames all around him…

Echo tried to move his arm, but agony ran all over his body and he gasped at the pain. He could feel tight straps restraining him to the table, over his chest and torso. In an effort that had almost made him faint again at the pain, he lifted his head up to see the extent of the damage he’d sustained at the blast. Breathing was very painful, and he believed at least two of his ribs to be broken.

When his gaze fell on the bloody, mutilated stump of his right arm, he gasped and his eyes went wide. His breathing grew ragged, and he coughed on his own spit. He looked further, at his kicking legs—No. There were… There were no legs. He could feel himself kicking but… His right leg had been crushed into a nauseating sight of exposed bones, scorched flesh and blood, while his left one… there was nothing below the knee.

Echo’s head fell back violently against the table, a ragged scream ripping through his throat in a long, horrifying sound. He trashed and screamed, no matter how much it would hurt him even further. The only way to convey what he was feeling on what was left of his limbs would be the sensation of needles piercing him all the way to his bone, in every inch of his skin. That was a nightmare, had to be… He should be back at the GAR with Fives, should be safe, not with these goddamn clankers, mutilated and almost dead. It couldn’t be real. No.

Four large metallic fingers held his head down in place, and the upside-down vision of Grievous’ yellow eyes came into sight, adding to the nightmarish atmosphere.

“No anesthesia.” the General said in his metallic-sounding voice “I handled it just fine back in my time. I’m sure you clones are tough enough to handle a little cutting and burning, aren’t you?”

Echo didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not as he heard the electrical saw powering up and filling the room with a sound similar to a drill’s. He was breathing so fast his sight was getting hazy, only Grievous’ yellow eyes remaining in the blur of shiny metal and white light.

“What are you gonna do to me?” he gasped

Grievous’ eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh, clone trooper. We are going to turn you into a fine machine of our own.”

Echo wanted to spit at Grievous’ face, to throw every single curse he knew in Mando’ and Basic (and a few others he knew in Huttese and Twi’lek, because he was Echo from the 501st, he knew a little bit of everything he’d ever came across), but when the vibroblade saw touched the skin of his right thigh, all he could do was scream between his clenched teeth.

He held Grievous’ gaze. He wouldn’t go down whining and crying, he was an ARC trooper, a 501st, he was a decorated soldier of the Republic. He was Echo of Kamino, he was the Rishi Moon survivor, he was Fives’ brother, he was…

The ragged shriek that ripped through his throat sounded like a child’s, and for the first time Echo grew brutally conscious that he was only nine and a half years old.

Griveous was laughing. Laughing in delighted amusement, his hand holding Echo’s head down in place and almost breaking the skin of his forehead with its sharp metallic digits. By the time they had seared a prosthetic leg in place, Echo wasn’t feeling much coherent anymore. He wanted _, needed_ , to rest - to sleep - to _die_. That was when Grievous said:

“The left one now. Hurry up. He’s bleeding out, and this clone is worth fifty of you. Move on.”

“No…” Echo huffed out, and he hated the begging in his own voice “No… No, please, let me…!”

The power saw was on again, and Echo swallowed hard, tears welling up in his eyes to then run down the sides of his face, into his still-ringing ears. He had believed he was numb to the pain after the first procedure. He had believed his senses would be unable to process any new discomfort. Kix had told him something like that before, that the human brain could only process so much pain.

Echo had always hated being wrong, but he’d never hated it so much as he did now. He stopped putting up a brave face. He sobbed and cried and begged for them to stop. He felt faint and weak and wished he’d bleed out enough to faint or die – neither happened. When the smell of burning flesh subsided after the connections to another prosthetic leg were made, Grievous ordered absently:

“The arm now.”

Droll was oozing free out of Echo’s half-open mouth. There was snot running down his nose and his urine wetted his blacks. He raised his brown eyes to Grievous’ cold, yellow irises and he whispered weakly as cold sweat dribbled down his face:

“You have… no use for me… I won’t say a word… so you might as well just kill me… kill me now… kill me…”

Grievous blinked lazily to then pet Echo’s head almost kindly.

“Oh, but you will say it. You will tell us everything. I wouldn’t discard an ARC trooper, not with all the strategies and schematics this little head of yours must hold.”

The electric saw started to buzz again, and Echo turned his head away not to face whatever they would do to his right arm. The tears out of his wide-open eyes were now running over the bridge of his nose and he held back a sob.

“Kill me. I’m begging you, kill me. Strike a victory to the Separatists, kill me now.”

Grievous was still petting Echo’s head.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he purred “Becoming one with a machine?”

He grabbed hold of Echo’s head in a vicious grip, forcing him to look at the saw diving into the flesh of his mutilated, bleeding arm. And as Echo screamed in utter, endless agony, Grievous’ continued:

“I will enjoy witnessing a prized clone of the republic becoming no more than a machine, with his mind wide open for me to explore, to ravish. And when all your friends are dead, I will wake your mind from its slumber just to show you what’s left of their corpses. Ah, yes, do imagine… Kenobi and Skywalker’s  lightsabers as part of my collection, and all thanks to you.”

By the time the medical droid cut off the broken, charred stump of flesh out of him, Echo felt suddenly very distantly to himself, as if he was out of his body and yet tethered to it. The pain subsided and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He gasped one last time as unconsciousness wrapped its hands on him and he begged, as his mind shut down, for this to be the end of him.

* * *

It wasn’t. He couldn’t understand exactly how, but he could feel them. Probing and digging through his mind, through his knowledge. There was nothing he could to. The pain and fear of the many previous surgeries had nothing similar to the disgusting sense of violation as they scavenged through the data in his head. He hated himself. Hated himself for being such an obsessed idiot – he knew more than the average clone, and for that, he could provide the separatists with so much more than any other would; schematics, strategies, codes, all out in the open for them to see and use, and there was nothing Echo could do as they invaded his mind over and over, much like Grievous himself had said, _ravishing_ him. He wanted to die, all he wanted was to die and not even that they would give him. Instead, he’d float in that forgotten tank, losing sense of time and digging deeper into insanity. And then it came to him - a plan. A way out.

But they wouldn’t come for him. Nobody would, except for… Fives. Fives would come back to him.

When they broke him out of the bacta tank, it felt like being born. For some reason, Echo could still distinctly remember the large, pale hands scooping him out of the warm, sticky liquid into a cold room of lights too bright and sound too loud and all was new, terrified awe. No wonder babies cried as they were born – pushed out of peace and quiet into a world of war and death.

Especially them, especially clones, bred to die and nothing else.

Echo blinked several times until Rex’s face came into focus and for the first time in… he didn’t actually have a clue of how long, but he smiled, weak and shaking, and it felt like his face hadn’t done this in forever.

“You came for me, Rex…”

“Of course I did.” Rex’s eyes ran over his broken body, and Echo knew what was in his mind; wild thoughts of what would the captain have to say in order to beg the republic not to decommission the broken clone “We’ll take you home, Echo. You’ll be fine.”

Relief washed over Echo and he curled up closer to Rex despite the pain in his body, unused to moving around out of the tank. He had missed seeing a brother’s face. He had missed the white armor. He had missed it all so much. And he missed…

“Fives.” he mumbled as tranquility lured him into sleep faster than any drug could “I can’t wait to see… Fives…”


End file.
